It Can't Rain All the Time
by Mighty Crouton
Summary: I always thought this story was just some short story with a tragic ending... seems like this tragic ending had some unforeseen hope though. Post Bebop. Bittersweet but warm.


**It Can't Rain All the Time**

She was there.

Might as well not have been, though. She was just some ghost of a figure trapped in a tight yellow suit. Just some spectre staring ahead into the wall and dreaming of days that didn't exist anymore. Legs folded, dark hair pulled back by a childish berret. A painted red mouth parted slightly, the edge of white teeth chewing along a lower lip.

Jet knew she was nervous.

She always sucked on her lip when she was nervous.

The Bebop was quiet and boring, like it was every day. No change in scenario, just the same routine-in-stasis. No crazy kids hacking into the terminal boards, no strange dogs piling through the very last of leftovers, and no lazy men smoking up a cancerous storm in the pit. Just Poker Alice and a banzai fanatic.

Once the dog left, the kid, and the obnoxious man... their big warm dysfunctional family was thrown into a dishevel. Nothing was the same. Sure, Jet would fry mushrooms with peppers for supper, but when Faye raised a brow and suggested his "Beef and Bellpeppers" recipe left out the key ingredient, Jet gave her this look that broke her heart. As if she said someone's name that she wasn't suppose to say. As if she had just reenacted the sad story that was suppose to stay unmentioned.

Suffice to say, it was the last time Faye commented on Jet's cuisine.

It was raining, that much was clear. They were still on Mars, still on hiatus vacation eating up whatever funds they had left. Without three other mouths to feed, their money situation was much more comfortable. Though, Jet still went on being cheap and they continued to those damn green peppers as if they were the most delicious delicacy in the galaxy.

Jet hated Mars. It was always raining.

A sigh broke the shaky silence, one bionic arm folding against his organic limb. Some abstract twist of metal and flesh crossed over his chest, thick back pressed into the door's frame behind him. Jet didn't look up, finding more interest in the floorspace between the tips of his boots. Though, he did speak: slowly and deliberately.

"So what did you find?"

Silence paid a kind reply to Jet's question. Faye wasn't going to rise to the bait. Her breasts pressed into curled knees, head lolled on the couch's back cushion and eyes stayed across the room. There was a diagram on the coffee table, as well as a transluscent digitalized hologram. On the corner was the unmistakeable image of a smiling, maniacal yellow emoticon that would dance in curiousity then maintain a wide grin - cheeks dotted with bright red ovals.

Jet's patience was tried by the silence. After a few moments and a low gruff, he finally picked himself up and sauntered towards the message. Thick fingers plucked the piece off the surface of the table, eyes scanning and voice low as he read the contents outloud. It almost sounded comical, his deep voice panning over a child's essay in deadpan.

"How are you FayeFaye and Jetperson? Edward is fine. Edward is with fatherperson and Mac-Mc-Mac. Einein says woof woof. Hehe. Edward heard the news, feels bad about Spikeperson. Sends good feelings, take care of Spikeperson's Swordfish ship ship. Edward will visit Jetperson and Faye Faye soon, Edward thinks. But that is not why Edward sends important letter." Jet dragged his eyes off the piece so that he could throw a frustrated glare back at Faye, "Important letter? This is just a bunch of Edward-centric nonse-"

"Read the last paragraph." She interrupted him, jade eyes still fixed on the wall as Faye continued to chew her lip.

Poker Alice was being more testy than usual.

Jet frowned, returning to the piece and briefly studying the text - most of which was Edward babble with the occasional emoticon attempting to entertain him with its artificial quirks. However, once he briefly skimmed over Edward's signature madness of words, he complied to Faye's request. Eyes narrowed as he addressed the last paragraph, lips moving until the full essence of the letter's meaning began to sink in. Thick brows lifted and his mouth was ajar. Surprise and shock freckled his features. He was dumbfounded.

"Yeah," Faye muttered. "Yeah, that was my reaction too."

There was a reason why Faye was so damn silent, and it was because she didn't want to play a part on a very important deciding factor that this letter entailed. She left it to him to make the decision.

Ever since their world changed, Faye and Jet had built a safety net to protect themselves. Duct-taping the pieces and trying to hide the bloodstain that had entered their home. However, with this decision at the table, their safety net was about to go crashing down around them.

People say you have to face the music. In their situation, however, they were going to be facing the whole damn orchestra.

Jet was pissed.

"We're already living a hell... another change in life style ain't going to make a damn thing any worse than it already is," Jet growled, collecting the materials and diagrams on the table - taking care to tuck Edward's letter in a safe place before he stalked out of the bridge. "Get off your ass, Faye. You're coming with me."

Pools of green rolled upward, finally detaching themselves from that blank, boring wall. Sighing, the woman picked herself up onto her feet and followed Jet like some weak shadow, doubts flooding her mind. "Why do men have to be so stupid..."

* * *

It took them a good forty minutes to find the location on mars, another fifteen to land their vessels, a good thirteen minutes walking together in silence, and ten to finally enter the building. Jet was angry, Faye was frustrated. As if their world wasn't already destroyed now that their friend was gone. As if the situation wasn't already fragile and painful as was. No. No, now this had to happen. Of all things that could've happened, it had to be this. Jet was intentionally slow as he gaited forward. He was still trying to make sense of all this madness, all this ridiculousness, all this abnormalness. It made no damn sense. None of it. 

"It's like some short story with a tragic ending," He growled, breaking the silence that had lingered between them the moment they left the Cowboy Bebop. He strolled through the smooth hallway, eyes fixed on the reception desk in front of him.

Faye shrugged, her mask lifting as she spoke in a less sardonic voice, "Yeah. That's what I thought this story was. Just some short story with a tragic ending... seems like this tragic ending had some unforeseen hope though."

Jet narrowed his eyes, shaking his head, "It's not like you to say something like that. Maybe you're finally growing up." It was clipped and rude, but given the circumstances, Faye ignored his tone.

He stood there in front of the building's information desk, brow lifted. Behind the rectangular cut-out hole in the wall, the receptionist was scuffling around. An older woman, probably in her fifties, was trapped organizing manila folders and various files, clipped for records. Fifty years of technological advances, and humans were still reduced to flipping through leaves of paper. The building's receptionist raised her head as Jet cleared his throat in a vague effort to get some attention. Her lips pursed and old eyes peered through thick spectacles, "May I help you?"

"Yeah." It sounded more like a gruff than anything intelligible, but he continued. Faye merely distracted her attention by filing a nail, leaving Jet to do the heavy lifting. Some help she was. "We're here about a ki-"

"Oh! You must be Jet Black. Yes yes yes, your paperwork... Yes..." The woman shuffled towards the back, leaving the subject of her statement quite baffled. He shared a look with Faye, some nonverbal exchange that carried a very strong message:

What the hell?

Faye could only lift both hands in the air and offer a shrug.

The receptionist returned, holding an optical board and a tablet pen. She nodded agreeably, her sudden shrudeness replaced with a warm, professional aire. "Right right, Mr. Black... it seems you've sent us all of the paperwork through our communications board." She sighed, shaking her head and giving Jet a look that read 'You should have told me that before I went in the back to check'. Grumpy and shrewd, she continued as both arms extended with the materials at hand, "Well, no matter. I'll still need a signature from you and your wife, Ms. Faye Black."

Jet's jaw dropped. Was this some sort of dirty joke? "My wha- OWE!" A face construed in shock was quickly replaced by constrained pain.

"I'll take that, thank you," Faye smiled pleasantly, collecting the board and stylus from the woman. Jet bit down hard on his lower lip, gaze drifting down to regard the crazy woman's heel planted into top of his foot. 'Ms. Black' feigned concern, lifting her weight off as she gingerly touched Jet's shoulder, "Oh dear, is your arthiris acting up again? Now I told you, a man your age really shouldn't be running around Mars! This weather is terrible for your condition."

Jet offered a cruel glare in return for 'his wife's' mock concern. One two thoughtful pats on the back, and Faye calmly returned her attention to the digital agreement - a fluid signature attached with a date. She shoved the item into his hands, watching Jet follow the same procedure. A bored look regarding his address to the paper, and threatening to stub his foot if Jet even dared take his damn time to read through all the fine print. Both 'husband' and 'wife' extended the materials back to the old shrew, waiting for her to recollect and accept their agreements.

The receptionist scanned over the stylus screen briefly before filing it away. "Right right, well, tenth door to your left and you can collect your treasure. Congratulations you two! I hope you lead a happy, wonderful life together," The words seemed forced, as if she was reduced to saying the same thing on routine level. The receptionist went back to her filing; Jet and Faye went back to their doubts.

The man eyed his partner warily. "Well...?"

"Well what?" Faye muttered, thumbs looping the attachments of her suspenders as she stalked through the hallway, leaving him to trail behind. "Tenth door to the left. We'd better collect our bounty."

* * *

She was there. 

Some how her presence just warmed the room. To them she was just the reminder of a memory trapped in a small red dress. Just some spectre of christmas past staring ahead into the wall and dreaming of days that didn't exist. Legs folded, thick blond curls pulled back by a childish red bow. Her mouth was stained red from the popsickle a caretaker had given her, the edge of white teeth chewing along her lower lip.

The children around her were playing, tackling, rowdy games. But she was by herself, almost antisocial. Something that didn't fit in with the crowd of her generation. Instead, she just stared into a wall as a nurse that had greeted the motley pair earlier returned in her direction to collect the girl.

"How do we know it's his?" Faye muttered in fascination. Silence was key, and time just seemed to stand still between them and the kid. A green gaze addressed the child across the room. Short, young. Something approaching two years. At least two years old. Chubby and angellic, with hair that was too thick and too gold.

The caretaker nudged the child's shoulder, bending low and smiling at her level. This smile was only reciprocated with a bright white devil of a grin. The woman pointed in the direction of the odd couple, a small lithe chinese woman wearing pieces of yellow latex and a large man who was part machine. The girl turned to them, an alarming pair of bright mahogony eyes set in a dark, olive complexion. A mischievious gaze fixed on the two across the room.

For a second, Jet could almost swear that little girl winked at him.

"Is there any doubt?" He hushed under his breath, heavy gaze stayed as the chocolate-eyed child toddled towards them, the daycare's supervisor strolling slowly side-by-side.

She stood there, slightly pigeon toed, a finger touching pouted lips. Big fudge brown eyes stared fascinating circles between the large man and small woman. The attendant to which both child and couple were ignoring knelt down on one knee, encouraging the girl with a hand touching the small of her back. "Rose Lee Spiegel, would you like to say hi to your mommy and daddy?"

She didn't have to say anything to affirm it. Didn't have to say anything at all. Instead, she only smiled, closed lip. Skin and eyes like her father, hair and lips like her mother. That little girl didn't know it, but she was the only thing left of the only man that made Jet and Faye feel like home. The little piece of the puzzle that went missing. She didn't know it, but that little girl was the outcome tragedy; she was the very symbol of an outstanding love two people shared and died for.

She'd never know how much pain people went through to make her, and how much pain they dealt to protect her. She couldn't walk when her father looked for her mother inbetween dreams and crooks. She couldn't speak when her mother died in his arms as doves ascended the skies.

She never knew, but the two people staring down at her did.

She was a reminder of what both people had lost and gained.

"So that's why his woman ran," Jet later said sometime before or after they collected their prize. It was like finding a long lost family member. She really was their little girl gone missing, and somewhere up there Faye told Jet that she swore their friend was smiling down from heaven. Long gone knocking on heaven's door, sitting at the staircase during a smoke and pointing a finger as if he played one big prank on them all along.

Bang.

He was probably laughing. Laughing until his sides hurt. Laughing between his knocks on heaven's door. Laughing and knocking until his angel with golden hair would answer on the otherside.

It rained for a while, but it can't rain all the time. Some short stories have tragic endings, cowboy. But yours ended with a little bit of hope.

_Now there's a little less weight you gotta carry._

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Something to wrap it up nicely. A little bittersweet, but at least Faye and Jet have their family returned to them.

What's in a name? Rose Lee Spiegel. Well, the idea for 'Rose' is obvious. The rose is a very strong symbol that connected Spike to Julia and vice versa, so it seemed only natural to name their child after the symbol that represented these two. Spiegel, of course, because it's our hero's last name. And Lee, well... We all knew Spike Spiegel's father figure was always Bruce Lee.

And what if Spike knew he had a child? Would that have stopped him from attacking the Red Dragon Syndicate? No. Not really. A child of his wouldn't be safe in a world where men were out to kill anything related to his or Julia's name. He would've still went down in a blaze of glory, to protect his lover's memory, to protect his friends, and to protect the last line of blood. He was never a very spoken person, he never told anyone anything. Hell, Jet and Faye didn't know exactly what he was running from until it was too late.

As for who signed the papers in Jet Black's name (before Jet even realized he was going to 'collect' the kid)... seems things were pre-planned, eh? You could say Ed did the work, or you could even say Spike did and just sort of waited until they came across a little bit of truth. They would've found out eventually. No piece of information slips from Edward's hands, and both Faye & Jet love to get their noses into things they shouldn't. I could see Spike setting certain things in order before his final showdown.

By any means, it was a delight to write this. Thank you.


End file.
